Page 3 of A Steadfast Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #2)

W hat if he doesn’t want me?

Kaitlyn hurried along the walkway, the boards uneven beneath her feet. Habit had her glancing over her shoulder. After three days of broken sleep on a rocking train, her nerves jangled at every sound. Michael might be a thousand miles away, but who knew what threats lurked here?

Behind her, the train whistle screeched and the porter shouted, “All aboard!”

She could turn around. Buy a ticket for farther west. Find a school that needed a teacher.

She shook her head. And Michael would find her as soon as that school contacted her alma mater to check her references.

She forced her feet to continue moving forward. She had practically memorized the letter Drew had left at the train station. A man willing to go so far as to find a mail-order bride because he was concerned for his children was a man worth knowing.

And Michael couldn’t force her to marry Brian if she was already married to Drew.

Her heels clicked on the boardwalk. It didn’t matter if Drew didn’t want her. She ignored the ache of loneliness the thought brought. Better to be needed than wanted any day. But she couldn’t convince him he needed her until she got to his ranch. A town like this must have a livery. She just had to find it.

A door opened a couple of buildings down, and two people strode out onto the boardwalk. Here was someone who could help her. One of them was a bear of a man, unsmiling, his hands on his hips. He towered over the…woman? Kaitlyn’s jaw dropped. A woman in pants?

The woman stood tall, her shoulders straight. Then she turned, and Kaitlyn saw the metal star on her vest. A woman as sheriff? Or deputy? Were things that different in the West?

She hoped so. She really did.

Kaitlyn moved closer. “Ma’am? Deputy?”

The woman pivoted, her boots squeaking against the wooden boardwalk. “Marshal, actually.” Her coffee-colored gaze was coolly assessing.

Kaitlyn straightened her shoulders a fraction and pushed away the worry that told her not to talk about her destination in public. What did it matter if she left traces for Michael to follow? By the time he picked up her trail, she’d be safely married.

If Drew McGraw would agree.

Please let him agree .

“Could you give me directions to the livery?”

“It’s at the end of this street.” The marshal cocked her head questioningly. “Where are you headed?”

“To the McGraw ranch. Do you know them?”

The big man shouldered his way next to the marshal. “What business do you have with the likes of them?”

“The McGraws are good folks.” The marshal sliced a look at the man, as if daring him to say different.

“Of course, Marshal.” His gaze swept Kaitlyn from head to toe. “My spread is out that direction. It’d be the neighborly thing to do to offer a ride. Traveling alone in these parts can be dangerous.”

Kaitlyn eyed the man in front of her. Neat suit and tie. Dark hair and eyes. Mustache. Traveling alone was dangerous anywhere, but could she trust this man she’d barely met? She shook her head. No, the livery was her best plan. “Thank you, Mr…”

“Quade. Heath Quade. Glad to be of service.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’d better stick to my original plan.”

Kaitlyn stepped past the two on her way to the livery. The spot between her shoulder blades itched, as if the man’s gaze bored into her back. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder. Instead, she slipped into a business two doors farther down and made her way to the window. The marshal and Mr. Quade had disappeared. She let out a pent-up breath. Her imagination was working overtime.

She left the store and continued toward the livery. A block farther down, a crowd spilled onto the boardwalk from the saloon. Loud laughter. Shoving. A man at the back of the crowd noticed her and nudged his neighbor, who also looked her way.

She crossed the street. Rowdy groups of men could be trouble. No point in getting any closer than she had to. She kept an eye on the two men. They crossed the road toward her. Heading to the business she’d just passed, no doubt. Most men weren’t like her brother.

Except their angle would take them right in front of her.

She sped up.

They altered their path. Her stomach turned over. They intended to block her way. If she could only get to the livery. Surely someone there would help her.

The men’s voices reached her.

“Hullo, sweetheart.”

She ignored the man who’d called out so familiarly. Her face burned and her pulse pounded.

“I saw her first.” The other man spoke even as they closed in on both sides.

Kaitlyn spun around. The jail was only a few doors down. Her heels clattered on the boards but couldn’t drown out the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, nor the sound of the men’s boots as they passed her.

“Where ya goin’ in such a hurry, missy?” The first man hulked in front of her, blocking her path.

His friend stopped beside him. “Why doncha stop and chat with us?”

Please let the marshal be there .

Horse hooves thudded in the packed dirt of the road, then clattered onto the boardwalk behind her. She whirled around to see a huge brown horse standing between her and the men, Mr. Quade in the saddle. “What do you boys think you’re doing? Harassing a young lady like that.”

The other men backed into the street, muttering apologies.

Her knees threatened to melt in relief. “Thank you, Mr. Quade.”

He swung down from his horse. “Why don’t I escort you to the livery? I’d hate for more trouble to find you.”

He hadn’t had reason to, but he’d come to her rescue. One of the rough men glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowed and angry.

With her heart still pounding in her ears, it was an easy decision. “I’d appreciate that.”

The livery wasn’t far, even with shaky knees. When they reached its stable yard, Kaitlyn glanced back to see the men still watching her. Not good. Not good at all. They likely had horses nearby, and who knew how far it was to the McGraws’ ranch?

“Mr. Quade? Are you still willing to show me the way to the McGraws’?”

Quade looked back toward the saloon. “It’s either that or follow you. Couldn’t risk that bunch finding you. Can you ride?” He wrapped his reins around the post outside the livery.

“Yes.”

It only took a few minutes to speak to the hostler, then Kaitlyn found herself in the saddle of a mare that seemed sturdy and gentle.

Mr. Quade kept his horse at a walk. Kaitlyn eased up beside him.

He smiled at her. “You never told me your name.”

“Kaitlyn Montgomery.”

“I hope you won’t judge our entire town by a few bad actors.”

Bad actors . As if they hadn’t accosted her on a public street. Still, he had stopped to help. “I’d say you and the marshal even things up. I’ll keep an open mind.”

His smile widened. “A diplomat’s answer. You sound like my middle daughter. She’s always trying to smooth ruffled feathers.”

At the edge of town, the road narrowed into a dirt path barely wide enough for the two of them to ride side by side. Kaitlyn took a deep breath, the air scented with grass instead of coal smoke like the past days on the train. The prairie stretched as far as she could see to the east, and to the foot of the mountains that stood a few days’ ride to the west. No buildings hemming her in. Judging by the marshal’s attire, there might be fewer expectations as well.

Unless Drew felt differently.

She shook her head. No point in worrying about it. She’d face Drew’s expectations when she got to the ranch.

Quade guided his horse closer to her, away from the tall grass beside the path. “Why are you headed to the McGraws’?”

And wasn’t that the question. Not like she could tell him what she was running from, and she wasn’t sure what she was running to. She forced a light laugh. “That would be telling. It wouldn’t be fair to give you the gossip before anyone else, now, would it?”

His hands tightened on the reins. “I’m not the kind to indulge in gossip, Miss Montgomery, but I do like to look out for my neighbors.”

“Have you been neighbors long?”

“Years.” He glanced her way. “Long enough to know them well. Their spread is small and like to get smaller.”

“I see.” Not that she really did. If they were to lose land, wouldn’t they lose it all?

“Not like my place. I’ve got the biggest spread in the area. Largest herd too.”

There we go. His weak spot. If she could get him talking about his ranch, he’d quit pushing her for information. At least for now.

“How’d you get started out here?”

“Got lucky in the mines west of here. Earned enough to buy my first spread. Added to it as opportunities came.”

He told her the story of his spread. She only understood about half of it, but she nodded in what she hoped were appropriate places. When he wound down, he asked, “What about your family?”

A topic she’d like to forget. “My parents died when I was young. I have one brother named Anthony.” Not that he used that name, since he liked his middle name better. “He runs the family business.” Runs it into the ground, that is. “Do you have a family?”

Was that a flash of disappointment? It passed too quickly for her to be sure.

“Three daughters.” He glanced down at his hands on the reins. “My wife passed several years ago.”

Disappointment over daughters, or grief over his wife? It could have been either. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Still, three girls that are worth their weight in gold. Nothing like that crew of McGraw’s. I figure he’s wised up and hired a tutor for those hooligans of his. You’ll have your hands full. Those kids have run wild since their mama left on a train.” There was something calculating in his gaze, waiting for her response.

Her hands jerked. Drew’s letter had said he was a widower. How could he be asking for a bride if he still had a wife? Think, Kaitlyn. Don’t reveal what you know. Or think you know. “Left?”

“She ran off. Got tired of fighting against the land, and even more, fighting with her husband.”

Kaitlyn bit her lip. She’d built up Drew McGraw in her head since reading and re-reading the letter she’d found at the station. The man who’d written it was thoughtful, intentional. Not eloquent or long-winded. She’d pictured him as kind. Like her father on most days.

But if what Mr. Quade had said was true, Kaitlyn had been completely wrong.

What had she gotten herself into?

* * *

No luck. Wasn’t that the story of his life?

Drew backed away from the brambles he’d been searching. Where had Curly gone to give birth? He’d have thought a cow that had been bottle-raised would find safety nearer the house when her time came, but he’d spent the last several hours searching and found no sign of her. That wasn’t unusual. Cows liked to pick remote places to give birth.

He strode back to his roan’s side and swung into the saddle. Solomon had seen him through many an adventure, but the stallion was surely feeling the cold just as much as Drew. In the wooded areas, the trees blocked what little warmth the sun provided. Late March, and they still had snow on the ground.

Didn’t matter. He had to find that cow. Curly Jo was the first calf David had bottle-raised. She’d been missing since yesterday, and Drew was determined to find her.

Drew had returned to the ranch a week ago without the new ma he’d promised the children. Their responses had demonstrated all the problems he’d hoped his wife would find a way to solve. If anything, their disappointment had made the issues worse.

David had said little, as if having a ma made no difference one way or the other.

Or maybe the girls’ extreme responses had hidden David’s. Jo had muttered “Good riddance” and been almost pleasant for the next couple of hours. Tillie’s crying had ended the happy interlude. Jo had snapped at her sister and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

Tillie. Well, Tillie was the reason Drew found the cold outdoors more comfortable than the warm living room. Her expression had crumpled as she’d asked, “Don’t she want us no more, Pa?”

Her questions hadn’t gotten easier as the days passed. “Will she change her mind, Pa?”

“Maybe she came on today’s train, ya think, Pa?”

“Did she decide three kids was too many, Pa?”

He’d had a few words with Jo after that last question. She was the most likely to have planted the poisonous idea that it was Tillie’s fault Leona had backed out. Jo had denied it, complete with another slammed door.

Drew sighed. How did he tell his children that they’d been the subject of a rich girl’s joke?

He didn’t have an answer.

He guided Solomon out of the stand of aspens he’d searched and back into the sunlight. Where to next? He glanced at the sky to judge the time and stopped short.

Buzzards. His eyes squeezed closed.

Lord, please, don’t let it be Curly .

But he had a bad feeling.

He struggled to pull in his next breath. What was he going to tell David? At thirteen, David already knew about loss. But Curly was special.

Drew had been nine when he’d learned not to name all the creatures on the ranch. He shook his hand, trying to forget the feel of Calico’s fur beneath his fingers. That cat had followed him through his chores for the year, always glad when he sent a stream of milk her way.

Coyotes had gotten her.

You gave her a good life , his father had said. That’s all you can do, son.

Drew hadn’t liked the words then, and he didn’t like them now.

He just didn’t have any better.

Hoofbeats sounded from his right. That would be his brother, Ed. He didn’t even need to look. The second youngest McGraw had the knack for always being where he was needed most. He’d never left the ranch, unlike Nick, who’d had a brief stint in teaching school, and Isaac, who’d been with the US Marshals for several years before returning home last year.

No doubt he’d seen the buzzards too.

Drew nudged Solomon to a ground-eating canter. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late.

Ed guided his bay gelding, Lightning, beside them, matching the pace. He looked up at the birds circling their intended prey, then at his brother, his eyes somber.

A few moments passed before the terrain forced them to slow down.

Ed pushed his hat back on his head. “Mr. Cummins stopped by. Had some news from town. He said that Robbins sold out.”

Drew hadn’t heard. “When are they leaving? We’ll have to get over and get the logs they promised we could cut.”

“Cummins said they’re already gone. Pulled out last Monday.”

“What?” He guided Solomon around a bush. How were they supposed to prove up homesteads with no logs? Their pa had left the original family claim to Drew in his will, but Drew’s brothers needed to prove up their new claims, and he’d promised he’d help. But when? Bills had to be paid and supplies purchased, leaving precious little money for lumber. Aspens might be pretty, but they’d never make a cabin. “Did you hear who bought it?”

Ed shook his head.

It didn’t make sense for the Robbins family to pull out.

Quade. It had to be. Thousands of acres, yet the man still craved more. He’d been buying up so much land that surely his ranch took up a quarter of the county by now.

He wanted the McGraw spread and its water access and had made no secret of it.

Drew loosened his too-tight grip on the reins. Quade had made another offer on their property just last month. He’d said they’d be wise to take it, as everyone knew they’d never manage to prove up by the deadline. Had he known about their deal with Robbins?

No doubt he had. Had probably pushed the other family into leaving.

Ed pulled Lightning closer. “If we have to, we can tear down the bunkhouse and salvage the wood to build our cabins.”

Drew shook his head. Where would his brothers sleep?

Ed seemed to follow his train of thought. “Nick and I can bed down on the living room floor for as long as it takes, and Isaac…doesn’t seem to want a roof over his head these days.”

Another problem. Jocular, outgoing Isaac had come back from his last marshal job silent and solitary, and without his badge.

Lord, if it’s true You won’t give us more than we can handle, I sure wish You didn’t trust me so much.

Drew glanced over his shoulder to meet Ed’s gaze. “We’ll find a way. We have to.”

Someday he’d like to do better than just find a way . Pa had made it look easy, but in the decade since Drew had taken over, he’d learned it was anything but. He’d made a promise to his ma, that he’d take care of his brothers. If they didn’t get those homesteads proved up, he’d fail at that as well. No way could a single homestead support four men and three kids.

And Quade now owned the best stand of lumber trees.

Solomon sidestepped. Drew dragged himself out of his thoughts to see dots of red splashed across the patches of snow. He followed the trail to a patch of brush, then looked away.

Too late.

Curly wasn’t moving.

Ed reined in beside him. “David is going to take this hard.”

“He’ll survive it. We all did.” But the words felt hollow somehow. Like Drew inside.

This was Drew’s fault. It was that bull he’d bought. He had taken one look at that Angus bull in the sale ring and just known it would improve their stock. Now he had five dead cows and a soon-to-be-distraught son.

Curly’s calf stood on wobbly legs next to her dead mother, then folded onto the ground. The cold, wet ground that would suck the life from her as well if they didn’t hurry.

Drew swung down from his horse. That calf had to live. It was the best possible salve for David’s heart.

He grabbed the blanket from behind his saddle and wiped down the calf.

Ed went behind him, rubbing where Drew had dried, trying to improve the calf’s circulation. “We’ve lost a lot of cows in calving this year, more than normal.”

The words were salt in the wound. Drew knew. “Has to be the bull.” Guilt coiled low in his stomach. He should have been able to predict the problem. Should have realized that the bull was too big for his otherwise healthy herd. “I’ll be selling him the first opportunity we get.” They might take a loss on him, but less than they were losing now.

Ed stood back as the calf struggled to her feet. “Why don’t you take this little one to the barn? Lightning wouldn’t like the smell of blood on her.”

Solomon wouldn’t like it either, but he’d do it because Drew asked it. “Someone will have to butcher Curly.” Drew’s stomach turned at the thought, but there was no help for it. Painful or not, they couldn’t afford to waste the meat.

Hooves sounded in the distance. That’d be Isaac, drawn by the sight of the buzzards. Nick was on kitchen duty today.

Ed tipped his head. “Isaac and I can handle it.”

Drew nodded. “Appreciate it.” He swung into the saddle. “Hand me the calf?”

Ed wrangled him across Drew’s lap. They had missed some patches of blood, and it smeared across his pants and shirt. Oh well. His clothes would wash.

Ed gave Solomon’s neck a quick rub, which the horse tolerated. “You’d better get this baby to the barn. The sooner she’s warm and fed, the better. Isaac won’t be much longer.”

Drew turned Solomon toward home. His horse shook his head at the slow pace Drew set but didn’t argue otherwise. Not that Drew blamed him. Solomon knew there was grain waiting in the warm barn, just like Drew knew there’d be a pot of hot coffee on the stove in the kitchen. “Not much longer, boy. Just over that rise.” As if the horse didn’t know his way home blindfolded.

They topped the hill that gave the best view of the homestead. The setting sun cast shadows across the clearing where they planned to raise Ed’s cabin. It was empty except for the haying equipment waiting for repairs. The barn door still didn’t shut completely, since no one had fixed its broken track.

Drew’s dream of handing this land on to a new generation of McGraws was slipping from his grasp. The legacy his father had begun was crashing down around him.

He rode on, listing the things he would need to do tomorrow.

Starting with finding a new source of lumber.

Then he noticed the strange horse tied to the corral fence. Company? When all he wanted was clean clothes and a hot cup of coffee?

And they wouldn’t be bringing good news. Not unless his luck had changed drastically in the last thirty minutes.